


The Dummy's Dummy One Shots

by Cherry_Chocco



Category: The Dummy's Dummy (Webcomic)
Genre: Atsuko - Freeform, Gore, I am but a smol bb forgive my terrible writing, Knifeplay, Multi, Not finished yet, Other, Paris - Freeform, Please Don't Hate Me, Slow Updates, Smut, Violence, Why Did I Write This?, Yumi - Freeform, a bit of violence, in which paris has a thing for pain, killer!au, killer!paris, knifu, mature - Freeform, nora - Freeform, paris is a bad boy, pray for me there's nothing wrong I just don't know how to write, sin - Freeform, slight gore, this is my first book here idk how this site works I'm new don't hit me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:08:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23802100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherry_Chocco/pseuds/Cherry_Chocco
Summary: There will be a few chapters here,  each pertaining to a webcomic I read called The Dummy's Dummy.  It's a great comic.  I will be doing a one shot book with the characters in it,  and you're legally not allowed to yell at me for it.  There will be a short description at the top of each chapter and any warnings the chapter may need so be prepared.  I take all requests meaning I will do smut if you want it,  that one pedophilic ship we all know about,  gore, cursing..  Tentacles.....  Literally name it and I'll do it, I have zero boundaries. I'm also uploading this book to my Wattpad account IveDisappointedYou, go follow me there lmao.I do not own the webcomic The Dummy's Dummy or any of its characters,  everything I write in this book is my own original writing,  however,  this work may contain quotes from the original piece,Thank you for your time.
Relationships: Paris/Knife, Paris/Yumi, Paris/reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	1. Paris/Knifu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paris is left home alone and wonders the house. He is reminded of his knife and retrieves it, only to get turned on by it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains the tomfuckery called masturbation because Paris is a kinky fucker, I am so sorry for what you are about to read this is an absolutely terrible way to start this book off. I will write two endings to this and one of them will have smut and one of them will be sweet and innocent, I'll add a note for when the smut starts so you may skip it if you please.

Each heavy raindrop falling with purpose was illuminated by the full moon like shards of broken mirror glass cut from their tethers to the sky and fell harshly onto the earth below, shattering further into more of itself then melting into one mirror that reflected back the sky -reflecting back itself. And yet, one particular dummy refused to go out that night to see.  
Paris instead, sat by the warm glow of the brick fireplace and watched the flames burn logs profusely. Comforted by the rapid tapping of the storm overhead, and enjoying the fine heat that warmed his skin, he closed his eyes and rested back onto the chair he was in.  
Yumi was out tonight with a friend she'd recently gotten acquainted to and Nora and Atsuko had decided to make this night a date night, finally away from their kid and both off work, it was a great idea in the beginning. 

But nobody ever expected the storm. 

With Nora, Atsuko and Yumi gone, this left Paris to himself to wonder freely as he pleased. He wondered the house many times, carefully inspecting every corner and room he hadn't yet seem before, and playing with trinkets and gadget he found laying around; there were many. He found amusement in the smallest things; while going through Yumi's drawers to see what she owned he had found an unsolved rubix cube which he promptly solved in record speed, a magnetic sand timer he took note of in the livingroom that he assumed had rarely ever ben used and was most certainly kept as a decorative piece to add class to the otherwise dull room, an old broken drinking bird in Nora's room on her dresser- one of the ones with the heat engines that mimic the motions of the fake bird drinking from a 'water' source..  
There were many things of interest that he'd found, many things he wish he hadn't found as well, however. Such as, the SuperDuperHiddenToys that Nora kept in her bedside drawer.. And the kinkyass lingerie he found.. And the frilly pink undergarments he'd found in Yumi's dresser.. And the super rotten orange in the fridge.. 

He stopped searching the house after the orange, disgusted and discouraged. 

And so now he sat by the livingroom fireplace that held a blazing fire, not too close as to catch fire, but close enough to feel himself heated and comfortable. 

Paris leaned back in the chair, trying to get to a point of bliss where nothing but the comfort of the soft chair and the heat of the fire mattered, but he felt something sharp press into his spine and yelped. Remembering that he often stored his Knife in the slit in his back for safe keeping, he leaned forward to retrieve it. He took the oversized knife in his hands and turned it over, holding it up to gaze at its grin. He had always loved the blade, not just because of how effective it was, but because of the way it was always ever so polished and glistened at the finest of light. He loved the way the knife held an aura like his that, while simple and docile, could kill. 

Oh how that knife could kill... 

[NOTE!]  
[E1; smut ahead]

Paris turned the knife over in his hands and gently ran the piercing blade over it left pointer finger, enjoying the way it left a small slit in his finger. Paris didn't bleed, so he never had to worry about being messy when playing with his knife... Which he didn't do as often as he'd like.  
Something he'd never admit to is that he loved the feeling of being in danger-and then winning whatever situation he was in. And this knife he kept so close to him seemed to know that without him ever expressing it, which he was grateful for. He may not be hip with the cool kids, but he sure as hell wasn't vacuous enough to admit he was a kinky fucker to a goddamn knife. 

He ran the knife up his arm and gently pressed it to the side of his neck, closing his eyes and tilting his head slightly, taking a deep breath to take in the sensation of the sharp blade against his flesh-like skin. He heard a noise from outside and was abruptly interrupted back into the real world, realizing what the fuck he was doing. 

"My dearest me what have I been doing.." he muttered to himself and sat up, standing off the chair and going to the window to check and see who might be home at this hour. It was only seven and Nora and Atsuko weren't supposed to be home until way later. He had time to fool around, didn't he? 

He peered out the window to the street ahead of the house and saw no one but a horny female cat in heat in the yard, rubbing herself against a tree. 

"Me too, cat. Me too..." He shook his head and closed the blinds and went back to the chair to sit down on, this time he knew he didn't want to be interrupted. This time, he knew what he really wanted.  
Alone all this time and he planned to use it for the one thing he couldn't do around Yumi or anybody else. 

Paris was never a romantic, but he did get off on pain. 

The moment Paris sat back down he retrieved his handy knife, a new mindset filled his head and he wanted to play. He leaned back into the chair and held the knife in front of him, grinning a wildly toothy grin. He pressed the knife up against his chest a bit and let out a shaky breath as he felt a sharp tang where his heart should be. Of course, he's hollow, but that doesn't change the fact that he'll feel the occasional nonexistent muscle or bone he's missing.  
He pressed the knife harder against his chest and gently dragged upwards towards his neck, biting his lip to keep his heavy breaths from becoming moans as he took in what was the sharp pain of being sliced apart.

To most, it was torture..  
To him, it was erotic. 

He gently sliced upwards on his thin neck and pressed the knife against the underside of his chin and with his free hand he gently ran his chilled fingers down his stomach to his crotch and pressed down. He was a puppet so, of course, he didn't have any genitalia; neither male nor female, but he still was sensitive and felt those parts of him. Even if they weren't there.   
He bucked his hips slightly and pressed down, palming himself. (gonna note here that I am super fucking uncomfortable with writing masturbation and I don't know why but I am cringing so hard right now this is taking so much effort for me to continue like seriously wtf is wrong with me) Paris moaned softly and his back arched as the knife pressed further into his throat. He shifted a bit and dragged the knife back down, allowing the sharp blade to indent small rough grooves into his wooden skin. 

He did this for quite a while, lightly stabbing himself and dragging the knife along his most sensitive parts of his body with one hand and feeling himself with his other. He continued until he could take the feeling no longer, still on the chair by the, now nearly dying, fire. Panting, heaving. He had changed positions on the chair so he was no longer sitting down like a normal human being, but was now sprawled out in a wild manner; legs spread apart, drooping over the edge of the armrest. Pants halfway undone, shirt completely undone.. Hair an utter mess.. He was a wreck and man was he glad nobody was home or would be home for a long while still because he may or may not have made a slight mess of the area and himself. He'd be wholly embarrassed to be found in the condition he was in now. 

After a moment of heaving solitude, he caught his breath and calmed down. Paris was still sensitive, but felt like he'd do well to stop and clean up. He sat up and took a deep breath. He ran a hand through his hair, fixing it a bit, then stood. He buttoned his shirt back up and fixed his nice pants so he at least looked presentable now. He then went on cleaning up the area he'd been in, there wasn't much to clean but perhaps some shredded pieces of fabric and wood chips from where he'd run the knife too far down into his body and had actually chipped himself on accident. At the time he had barely even noticed, but now he realized he'd gone just a bit too far and had done more damage to himself than he'd meant to.  
It didn't take long to fix up the area and when he was done he decided he'd do well with a nice hot shower and then some rest as he was now slightly tired and without Yumi to entertain him he didn't have much to do.   
God, it was weird thinking of Yumi after such an act. Shameful, almost. 

Paris put out the fire and went to take a nice hot shower to clean himself of his sins (lmao) and then go rest. He felt content, happy. But tonight? Tonight he was glad he was alone for once. 

[NOTE!]  
[smut end]

{E2}

Paris smiled at the knife in his hands and sat it on the coffee table by the chair he was in and leaned back, finally able to relax the way he wanted to. He leaned back into the chair and closed his eyes, taking in the aroma of the cedar logs in the fireplace burning and the slight whiff of the heavy rain storm from the open window across the room. His mind started to wonder as he began to fall asleep. His dreams, filled with many things that he enjoyed, but to most would seem sketchy as fuck.  
He slept for a while until eventually he heard a sound of tire on concrete that awoke him from his rest and he jumped up, realizing now just how long he'd been asleep and that Nora and Atsuko must be home by now. He quickly rushed to put out the fireplace and rush up to Yumi's room so that neither of the two adults would see him or ever know he was even there.

He decided that since it was so late it would just be best to go back to sleep. Tonight, however, he rested in the comfort that was Yumi's mattress. He loved the soft plush foam it was made of and tonight, since Yumi was gone and didn't have to ever find out, he slept in her bed in his normal, human form. Like a normal, human person. He enjoyed pretending to be normal, sometimes, it even felt that he was. There was always something dark and twisted in his soul, but he tried oh so very hard to ignore it the best he could and just relax into humanity like any other mortal human being would.   
Sleeping in a bed that was slightly too small for him, but piled with pillows and a damn nice comforter was a nice change for once, and he enjoyed his rest here for once instead of being placed on a dresser like some common fucking toy. 

It was nice, and Paris slept peacefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of the first chapter, please tell me what you think about it.. I know starting off with kinky weirdass smut was probably a very bad idea, but it was the first idea that came to mind believe it or not and I wasn't going to just scratch an entire chapter just so that it's better for the audience. I might, however, rearrange the order of the chapters when I get to adding more. I hope that you like my work and if you have any suggestions or helpful criticism please do tell me in the comments! 
> 
> Thank You,   
> Cherry.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Partners In Crime.   
> Paris has always attempted to seem friendly, kind, helpful. And he's gone on long enough to work up a reputation as a hero who just wants to help people, but has anybody ever thought that it's not the helping that Paris likes, but the killing? In his spare time when he disappears, has anybody ever really wondered where he's gone off to? What happens when tearing stuffed animals to shreds doesn't seem to fulfill him anymore and he needs a different excitement in his life. What if you are that excitement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will include major gore and violence. Since this is an X Reader, any time the reader is mentioned instead of giving the reader a gender or a name, I will be writing it as "you/your/their" and descriptive words of that such.

So many years of cleaning up after others mistakes only lead to an obsession to clean up his own mistakes once in a while just to prove that he could. Just to prove that he wasn't some clean-up boy to be forced to fix others problems. Just to prove that he had problems of his own. That he could do things for himself. That he wasn't just some maid for others.  
After Ivan had locked him, Paris, up for good he thought it would be the end of his fun. He had assumed he'd been forgotten for eternity and that nobody would ever find him. 

Ever save him. 

He sat every moment of every day in that dingy old wooden chestnut box knowing that he would never have the opportunity to die, but would be left alone to himself for ages. He waited and waited for a change, and it never came.  
And he assumed he'd be better off dead. 

That was, however, before Yumi.

That fateful day when Yumi found him by accident changed everything. His whole entire dynamic. All those years in his box had mellowed him out a bit, but made him more refined. Cleaner. For you see, before he ever even assumed he'd be stuck in that box forever, he would spend hours upon hours plotting as to how he would kill his master if he ever worked up the courage to- or, it wasn't a lack of courage to end Ivan's life that he had, but the slight doubt that he would be able to stop himself after Ivan. The doubt that once he killed his master, he wouldn't just begin to kill anyone in near sight. He worried not about whether or whether not he could or could not kill a grown man, but how many lives he would end once he begun. And that? That was perhaps the one thing that held him back. For he was a good puppet in mind, but a terrible, vile, wicked puppet deep in his soul. 

But by the time this strange eleven year old girl had found him, he'd forgotten all his fears. All his worries and doubts from the past. Everything he once knew, he'd forgotten. everything he'd feared once, he'd forgotten as well. 

He emerged from that box as fresh as he was the day he was made, just a little more... Twisted. And perhaps, that is why now, while he's knee deep in sewer water, a young boy in his arms, shards of jagged glass pined into his spine, he doesn't even notice the gruesome fact that the boy is dead.

If he did notice, would he even care?

***

It's always after the mistake that you learn. Always too little too late.

"-the body of locally beloved and missing twelve year old Clarke O'lard was found in a ditch this morning just by the corner of West Kennt Street and Ginko Avenue where the Twelfth Kimberly Bank stands high and mighty. In fact, it was head accountant Alice Roggers at that bank who called in a tip about the boy around five fifteen this morning where she states, '...the boy was nearly naked, clothes seemed to be torn off him by a savage animal and there was blood all over him. Shards of glass were struck into his skin and he lacked eyes, and yet I still could recognize him as Clarke...' Ms. Roggers then goes on to explain that '...Clarke must have been starved for he was at least twenty pounds lighter than he was last I saw him and beneath all the blood I believe he was badly bruised. I called the police as soon as I saw him, my oh my what a terrible happening.'"

The woman on the screen had a dull and very average voice and she was tall, lanky. She wore makeup too thick and too olive for her natural beige complexion, her hair was pulled back away from her defined face into an ebony bun too tight and her flashy tan suit showed too much cleavage and tugged at her sides when she shuffled papers in her arms or when she stretched. She would have been a very pretty woman if she hadn't spent so much effort on trying to fit into the oversexualized ideals for modern women.

At least that's what Paris thought.

The woman on the screen continued to describe the boy who had supposedly been missing for thirty eight days, Paris knew it was forty one days, but he knew better than to correct what was wrongly stated. He knew better than to limit himself to becoming a suspect of murder. Of torture. She went on to describe that the morgue found that the boy had been sexually abused, but not raped. They found that the boy seemed to be severely malnourished and was probably kept in a dark, damp room.  
'The sewer,' Paris thought, 'I should have known sooner..'

Paris was deep in though and so was inwardly startled when he heard familiar footsteps and he turned, but upon seeing just who it was he mentally groaned, he needed to know what the police thought of the case. Turning off the television as to not spook the young Yumi who'd entered the room, he turned and spoke in a suave, soft voice.

"Why hello there, Yumi, what wakes you this morning so early?"

He was wretched, but something deep down in his nonexistent wooden heart he felt some sort of sick love for children. Not in a creepy, pedophilic way, of course, but in a way an older brother might love his sibling or a father might love his child. Somewhere somewhere in his soul he felt the urge to serve and protect, to love and to cherish. He often felt the need to make sure everyone around him was safe and comfortable, but often failed to do so. He was, of course, a bit concerning to know. Being a magical fuckin puppet and all. He cared so much for children, but so little for adults and part of him knew it was because of the way he was created, but part of him knew it was because children are kind at heart. Innocent. He knows a child would never purposely cause others harm and while a part of him envies that fact, he cherishes it just as much.

He smiled down at the girl in front of him; she was in a red dress and her hair was a mess, her face was rather flushed today and her eyes were still a bit glossy, she'd obviously just woken up and gotten dressed before coming into the main living room to find Paris.  
Nora and Atsuko had gone off to work already and they had left Lily to babysit the minor, still not knowing of Paris' existence, but Lily had slept in and so was more than an hour late. Understandably so, though, as it's still only eight in the morning and she had had a rather late night last night.  
The young girl tried to suppress a yawn as she replied to the puppets question, 

"This is the time I usually wake up, I just got concerned because you're usually in my room still asleep and I got worried something might have happened to you..." She kept her gaze to the floor and avoided eye contact, holding her hands together clasped tight as if she was stressed. 

'Such a strange, strange child.'

Paris' soft smile only grew as he ruffled Yumi's already ruffled alabaster hair and spoke ,

"Yumi you don't have to worry about me, okay? I'm not nearly as breakable as you seem to think.." 

He bent down to her height and looked her in the eyes warmly. There was a special place in his heart for Yumi and he absolutely adored her. He'd do anything for her just about and it crushed him to know that she often really worried more for his safety than her own. She always cared for others more than she cared for herself and, while sweet, it was also concerning. 

"I just woke up early is all, the only thing that happened to me is a bit of restlessness, I promise." This he said, but in reality, he hadn't gotten much sleep last night and after hours upon dreaded hours of trying to close his eyes and get decent rest he had given up and had spent the rest of his time before now trying to plot how he would catch who he needed to catch. He was worried sick and needed to solve this case as soon as he possibly could, feeling and knowing that he wouldn't get good rest until he did so.

Yumi only nodded slightly, 

"okay..." Her eyes still trained on the floor as if it was something magnificent and intriguing.  
"Where's Lily?"

Paris hadn't even thought of Lily being there at all, but Yumi bringing her up did raise the odd question of just where she really was.. 

"Not here yet, she must have slept in late. I'm sure she'll be her soon. Why don't you give her a call?"

"Can you call her? I haven't really woken up today.." Of course, the real reason she didn't want to call her babysitter wasn't really that she was tired, but that she was too shy to be on the phone by herself. Let alone call someone else out for being late. 

"Of course." Paris nodded and went to grab a phone to call Lily, he'd had to do it enough times to the point of actually memorizing her number. He called Lily and found that she was late, she was very apologetic of course, and that she would be there in about fifteen minutes. By the time Paris went back to tell Yumi, she was gone. 'Back to her room,' he'd thought, but when he heard running water from the bathroom near her room he realized she must have gone to take a shower. 

Understanding that the girl might take a while, he turned his attention back to the television that he'd now turned back on, dismayed that he'd missed the boys story. He'd have to do some proper snooping to find out what the police found out about the tortured boy. He needed any information he could get to find that terrible, awful soldier. (NOTE!this is during the arch with the toy soldier, but instead of saving the boy, this happens)

***

A week had passed since the incident, and Paris was so close to catching what he needed, he had all the pieces put together and now all he needed to do was place one last clue together and he'd get there in no time at all. He knew that the Soldier had kidnapped another young child, a girl this time, and that he needed to find them now before anything else happened. Paris had figured that the Soldier had relocated, too. He was no longer in the sewers where Paris had found him once before, but was now in an old abandoned mine shaft just outside of town. The shaft had been closed and locked down for nearly twenty years now and it was severely dangerous. The entire three mile radius around the shaft had been shut due to the fact that at any given moment, the entire cave could just collapse and the ground there would fall in. What with sink holes and all that jazz. Paris had everything figured out now and he planned to go get this over with once and for all tonight, alone, and armed. He had his trusty knife with him, and he felt indestructible.

***

The time was 12:38. Nobody's up at this hour. 

The coast is clear, the mine is where it always stands. 

The time is 12:56. Nobody around.  
Nobody but Paris, the living breathing dummy, and the Soldier who guards the area so vigilantly and tortures so heinously.  
Well not anymore.. No, soon this will all be over, won't it? Once the job is done, life should go back to normal. If normal is even the right word for anything anymore. 

Paris walked up to the gate blocking the outside world from entering and jumped it, he wasn't as graceful as he'd liked to be, but hey, at least nobody was around to see him stumble and trip a few feet to try to gain his balance. Only to be spooked by a low swooping bat and fall into himself, dirtying his trousers. 'Blast,' he thought. But he got up, gathered his courage, elegance and poise, and he snuck towards the shaft.  
It took him maybe fifteen minutes to get to the front of the area, where he peered in. Paris was being extra careful as to not make any loud noises or sudden movements, he needed to be silent for his plan to work. He walked in a bit and saw the slight glow of a fire set in place deep in the shaft and smirked, knowing now exactly just where he needed to head. If there was light, there was life. If there was life, there was a savage Soldier nearby to torture it.  
And a savage who would no sooner be ripped into a million different shreds and burned in the very fire it'd created than the fire would be put out. 

Paris walked forwards unto the light, expecting to see something. Anything. And when there was nothing there but a dying fire, he realized he'd been tricked. Hearing now a crackling behind him he turned abruptly, his eyes wide and searching. His hand already on the handle of his knife that he stored in himself. Frantically, worriedly.  
He scanned the area before his large, red eyes but found nothing. 

Nothing in front of him now, because what used to be there, stood over his shoulder. Peering down over him. Threatening him. Haunting. 

Paris felt the shadow of something just as dark, just as twisted, behind him yet again but this time when he turned, he saw what he was looking for. He jumped back in shock and in surprise, but his gaze held a threat that was meant to be read. His eyes in a deathly sharp glare, his painted lips pursed and twisted into a sharp scowl. His brows scorned. His body shunned.  
With a hand on the ground and a hand is his spine to grab his knife, he spoke. Wearily, but with meaning. With purpose. With hatred. 

"It's about time you pathetic monster." he spat the phrase as if it was a curse and drew his knife, taking no hesitant time to wait. He went to slash the soldier but the soldier dodged and jumped back and to the left, glaring. Paris growled and tried again, but the soldier seemed too determined to live this time. It would be harder to end this all if this was kept up. Paris needed to think quick. He needed to move quick. 

One small glance back to a certain area was all Paris needed to know where the young girl was kept. 'Aha' he thought, 'that must be where I'll find the girl.. I need to get there, but how?' He questioned this as a dodged an attack. Somewhere somewhere, the Soldier must have picked up a sword. 

Paris dodged, "it's over, Soldier. Give up before I tear you to bits, maybe then I won't torture you like you did those kids!" 

The Soldier only laughed an evil laugh and charged, "try your best you no good rotten pile of wood! I know you don't care about any of the kids. You get off on killing toys so why should I be afraid of you! You're nothing but a weak scum if you're so good and cocky why am I still here, huh?! Surely if you could have killed me I'd already be dead by now!" The Soldiers voice was high and gravelly, he sounded pathetic and sickly, but he was stronger than he let on. He dodged a low hit and took a literal leap of faith over Paris, landing behind him and quickly jousting his sword into Paris' shoulder. It hurt him, and he bled. Of course, toys don't have blood and so they don't bleed that, but a black ooze that is inside us all, in a way.  
Paris groaned, but wouldn't give up. Not now, not yet. Not until he got his own chance to end that bastard Soldiers life once and for all. He took a moment to grab his shoulder and reconcile the pain, then he turned. His eyes had long changed, black cornea glowing red pupils, he laughed and dipped his head, "you think you can harm me.. You think yOU CAN WIN AHAHAH!" He laughed wickedly and charged, ramming his knife down into the toy Soldiers appendix. The soldier stumbled back and moaned out in pain, black tears welling up in his already satanic eyes and ooze spewing out of his wound. He whimpered, but was stupid enough to charge again. 

The Soldier charged, head low, sword in position to decapitate. 

Paris readied himself, having seen this move coming long before they were even in this position.  
He placed his knife out.  
Jumped high. 

He didn't hear the sharp cry of a young girl nearing them, screaming "WAIT-" 

He landed, turned, and with one mighty upwards swing he sunk his knife deep into the lower skull of the Soldier. Grinning. Laughing. 

But when looked down at the bloody ground where he'd pierced a skull, he realized. 

It wasn't the Soldiers skull he had pierced. 

It was the girls. And she stood upright, a painful cry bursting from her chest, fresh red blood spurting and oozing terribly out from the bottom of her thick skull. She jolted from the pain and her hands dropped down to her side, fingers spread violently. She shook and trembled, then fell to the ground with a heavy thud as Paris dropped his knife, still deep inside the girls head. Her eyes were bloodshot, glossy. 

The girl Paris had meant to save, was dead. 

And it was he who'd tried to be a hero, that had ended her life to begin with. 

It was Paris, who was a murderer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't finished and it took too long to write, but in about a week or three I should be coming back with a part two to this chapter, enjoy!


End file.
